


Lesson Thirteen; On Masterpieces

by an_evasive_author



Series: Continued Studies of Fatherhood [13]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Hedgehogs, Protective Older Brothers, Siblings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22418035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_evasive_author/pseuds/an_evasive_author
Summary: Everything Fëanáro does is masterful. Why, one needs only to look at his sons to know this to be the truth.With seven perfect children and a perfect wife to prove it, it feels as if the time is right to plan for a new project.Ambarussa, meanwhile, would very much enjoy a walk in the woods and who better to come along than Tyelkormo who most certainly is both dependable and willing and not in the least bit blackmailed.This might just be the perfect opportunity to gather chestnuts.
Relationships: Aredhel & Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Continued Studies of Fatherhood [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1410001
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62





	Lesson Thirteen; On Masterpieces

Fëanáro considered himself a tolerant, a most generous host. All he demanded in return was proper respect and manners and considering that this should have been the very minimum required and expected of any guest, this was more than reasonable.

What constituted proper respect in Fëanáro's opinion _could_ be interpreted as excessively patronising, but Fëanáro did not invite people with such obviously false opinions back.

So far, the intermediary he had invited had been acting _amazingly_ rude. Had no one taught him that one made eye contact at the very least?

Was that what the Ainu send when they wished to be polite? Was that what they thought of Fëanáro? It boggled the mind.

And as if to prove him right, once more the delegate's eye wandered lower, lower to Fëanáro's boots and stayed there for a while.

The desire to snap his fingers before the Maia to get his full attention was great.

But Fëanáro was nothing if not gracious and he had other things to worry about in any case. So he allowed this rude guest to stare at his boots and pretended nothing was amiss before he brought forth his notes.

Perfectly kept notes, in perfectly literate handwriting; How very thoughtful he was. Also it would not do to have to decipher his chicken scratch while he brought forth his perfect reasoning.

“I am...unclear of the purpose of your request,” the messenger said, face rigidly plastered into what they might have believed to look like serene tranquillity while looking quite concussed instead.

Many things did not seem right about Fëanáro's guest. He looked...uncanny. With ears too perfectly formed, yet never moving. Eyes the colour of hyacinths, too impossible to be genuine.

The strangest manner he had so far seen was the _blinking_. There seemed to be an... an _effort_ to it. Yes, effort to make blinking look effortless. How strange. Fëanáro did not like it, whatever this strangeness was.

Fëanáro would have liked to test the Maia's face for chirality but was nearly certain he would only find perfect symmetry. Like everything that had to do with Maiar, it was too perfect. Startlingly, suspiciously perfect. Revolting in its flawlessness. But he would not be tricked.

And of course he had to humour the Ainu to get what he wanted. It always came down to that, it seemed. Very well.

“Research,” Fëanáro said and in an ideal world, that would have had the matter settled. Alas, it was not.

“The Trees can be visited at any time,” the Ainu replied, still with that uncanny behaviour. His ears did not move, his voice carried no tone. Honestly, what had Fëanáro to work with? Was it to much to ask to see what effect he had on people?

It unsettled Fëanáro, if only slightly. Very slightly. Really, not at all. A little bit maybe.

“I do not wish to merely visit; I want to study them.” And, like explaining to a very dim child, which did not come easy for he had only bright ones, “That involves more than looking. I need to _touch_ them, at the very least. Pluck samples.”

At this, the Ainu reacted, for the very time since he had arrived.

Was Fëanáro's visitor even male? Who knew? Fëanáro did not and as such it was the Maia's fault for not providing clearer indications.

There was a little shift of the brow, a bit of flaring of the nose. So perhaps there was not _much_ of a reaction, granted, but at least Fëanáro had broken through this infuriating calmness.

“That is... most unusual.”

Fëanáro did not bristle, but neither was he amused, “But is it impossible?” Which it was not, of course. But sometimes it helped to nudge a simpleton towards the answer by asking the obvious.

“I--” A blink, slightly longer than the other ones, long, dark lashes over these _stupid_ purple eyes. What fairy tale whimsy was this supposed to evoke? How _childish_.

But oh, the sudden uncertainty. So perhaps Fëanáro _had_ finally overcome that infuriating composure and once more it was him domineering the field. Now everything was as it should be.

The Maia blinked again, twice, and returned to this artificial calm, but Fëanáro would not be fooled, “I shall have to bring this forward, it is not my right to decide.”

Ah yes, of course... There was _that_. Spineless.

Fëanáro did not snort but thought about it. Instead he rolled his eyes and handed over the notes he had prepared. “Take this; I am sure I will have my point explained satisfactorily.”

The Maia, Fëanáro had not bothered to remember the name supplied, took the notes, bowed deeply and made his retreat.

With his business concluded and the Maia shooed out to run back to his, for Fëanáro had decided it to be a male, masters.

And then, for a glorious moment, there was peace. Fëanáro had not moved for the entire time, even as the Maia had arrived. It was better to have them come to him, even if he had been the one to request his presence.

He had not bothered to learn his name and had stood slightly elevated.

His boots giggled and had done so through parts of Fëanáro's meeting, though Fëanáro could ignore that if needed. The Maia, being an impolite oaf, had not. Once more, Fëanáro was easily proving his superiority without trying.

Well, to be fair the twin elves who clutched them giggled. Like little vines hey had wrapped their hands around Fëanáro's legs and much like ivy or other creeping vines, they had no intention of letting go unless pried off.

They sounded endlessly proud of their clever deception. Telvo looked up at his father and smiled his beatific smile that made it very hard to resist either of them. “We were all hidden.”

“Didn't see anything!” Pityo agreed and they laughed brightly, like the little silver bell hanging above the door to Fëanáro's forge.

“Like mice,” Fëanáro agreed, for he would not break their little hearts by mentioning that the Maia had done very little else but staring at them. But it was not lying, for who knew? Perhaps somewhere out there in this wide wide world there could be giggling mice. And so, with a lack of evidence for the contrary, he was not proven wrong.

Fëanáro had not liked that this intruder, for that was everyone who entered Fëanáro's home and did not show proper respect, had stared so blatantly at his tiniest sons.

They had been at the safest place Fëanáro could have thought of, and now the Maia was gone and the danger, however much Fëanáro did not feel threatened by it of course, was over.

His work was another matter entirely. His work was not over. And as much joy as his children brought him, if they remained here, he would get sidetracked both through explaining the endless myriad of question they had as well as supervising so no one would have a hammer land on someone's foot.

Fëanáro walked with wide, exaggerated steps so Pityo and Telvo both laughed delighted as they were hauled along, clinging in the manner of red squirrels grasping to a tree.

Once at the door, he leaned down as far as his two passengers allowed and stroked their heads. “I shall be busy with work, my dears.”

Ambarussa looked upwards with such wide, eager eyes that Fëanáro felt quite guilty about sending them away.

But then again, they would get to play and no matter how much Fëanáro enjoyed their presence, it would do to deny them their playtime in favour of staying in the workshop when all he did was to pour over papers.

If he had been planning on working, he could have them fetch little things stored in the lowest drawers for such a purpose.

Strips of paper or perhaps the odd knick knack, nothing Fëanáro truly needed nor would miss if one of them got distracted halfway through. But it made them feel helpful and so Fëanáro dutifully kept the lowest drawers filled with beads and feathers and sparkly things.

“Can we help?” Telvo asked, sounding so very hopeful and eager.

Fëanáro kissed their foreheads with a gentleness very few would have thought him capable off.

“You,” Fëanáro said, crouched down to their height and poked their noses, “My faithful helpers, you shall go to the kitchens and eat something sweet. Nelyo has been baking or so I have been told.”

Oh, how excited they smiled, but Telvo hesitated, unlike his brother who's steps already echoed along the hallway. “Will that help you?” asked Telvo and looked at Fëanáro as if to see if there was any intent hidden from him. He looked a lot like his mother that way, Fëanáro noted amused.

“Why, it is integral to my work,” Fëanáro said and indeed it was. How better to concentrate if he was left alone for a little while? “Run along now, be nice to Nelyo and he might cut apples for you.”

Though forever eager to please and wishing to be helpful, Telvo laughed and tore after his brother down the hall.

Fëanáro watched them go and smiled contently before closing the door.

* * *

Though Nelyo would have prepared them fruit and pastry without flattery, he still quite enjoyed being recognized for his efforts. So when Ambarussa clung to his legs and wished him and only him to carve them up an apple because no one could do it like him, that did him in.

They were not alone in the kitchen; Carnistir was there and kicked his feet while he lazed on his chair. He had set plates and cups out and now waited for the proceedings to continue.

Nelyo rescued him from impeding starvation by serving tea and pastry. “Now,” Nelyo mused while he watched his siblings eat. “What to do with you two.”

The twins blinked at him but did not speak, too busy grabbing for ever more treats.

Carnistir gave him a wary look even as he munched on his dumpling and guzzled tea as if Nelyo would take it away any moment. Not that Nelyo had any interest in even trying his brother's tea, Carnistir took his with what felt like as much honey as he did liquid.

Ambarussa looked at him and then at each other. “Can we play outside?” Telvo asked.

“Out in the woods?” Pityo added.

Nelyo smiled, “Of course, but not on your own.”

The twins turned as one towards Carnistir who shook his head, “I am making birdfood later.” And before they could try and seduce Nelyo to do their bidding, Carnistir interjected, “He is helping me, go find your own.”

“Now, don't be rude,” Nelyo said gently, and ruffled Carnistir's hair.

“We will find someone to take you out into the woods,” he said to the twins and made to fetch a new plate.

Piling dumpling onto it, he set the plate down onto the windowsill and sat back down, “While we wait, shall we play I Spy?”

There was resounding agreement.

* * *

They made it through seven rounds until Carnistir lost interest and demanded to do something else when Tyelkormo entered the kitchen, lured by the sweet scent of warm pastries.

Ambarussa had moved down the hall and instructed to wait, painting a picture together while also playing with blocks at the same time.

Meanwhile, Nelyo had begun with preparations for Carnistir's project and now stood at the stove, stirring dutifully in a large pot.

“There you are,” Nelyo said and turned around. “I need you to go out and watch over Ambarussa; They want to take a walk. Out in the woods.” And there was arguably no one better acquainted with the forest than Tyelko.

“But I am meeting with Irissë!”

“Doing what?”

Momentary silence and Nelyo turned around when no answer came. Then Tyelko grumbled, “...Playing in the woods...”

“Well, there you are then. Take them with you.” With that the manner could have been resolved. Nelyafinwe would have been perfectly fine with that.

Tyelkormo seemed all too eager to disagree.

“Nelyo, please? I am no good at these things.” Not to mention that having to watch over his little brothers would mean missing out on so much; Tree-climbing, for Ambarussa could not yet scale anything bigger than a chair and even then only when the little steps had been provided.

And he could hardly chase about with Irissë while Ambarussa where around. They were neither very fast nor nimble.

But Nelyo remained unsympathetic, “I cannot. I promised Carnistir we would make fat-balls for the birds today--” he pointed towards the steadily growing pile of de-shelled sunflower seeds and chopped nuts.

“And even if I would want to--” he heaved a long-suffering sigh at Carnistir's appalled, betrayed half-whine, “--Which I _don't_ ,” he said in an effort to calm his brother's rapidly rising anger, one needed to curb the flame before he could boil over. There would be no stopping him after that.

Carnistir, who had already reddened in the face, stared at his oldest brother, boring into him as if to test him for lies. Whatever he saw seemed to placate him, Carnistir nodded once to himself and continued his labors.

Nelyo turned back to Tyelko once more, “There is already piping hot suet on the stove and I will not risk having the house burn down.”

It was fair to reason that around the great estate of Fëanáro and his princely brood, the fattest of birds and squirrels resided. Courtesy of Carnistir and his high caloric treats he insisted on hanging from every branch.

Perhaps it was his personal quest to make the birds perfectly spherical; Everyone needed aspirations, after all.

“I could do that!” called Tyelko, who's interest had rapidly dwindled right up to the mention of potential fun. What _couldn't_ one do with a pot full of boiling oil?

Nelyafinwe gave a low keening noise of utter horror at the mere thought, ears flat against his hairnet, “Did you not hear me? I just said I would not do anything that would destroy the house. Now get dressed. I will pack you all a lunch too.”

When Tyelko did not answer and instead only kicked at the ground, pouting, Nelyafinwe smiled the smile of one who had a secret weapon and was about to reveal it. “I will put a few of the dumplings I made in there, too,” he said.

Well, that changed things. Still, Tyelko could not make it too easy for his brother. It was time to bargain, “But more than just two this time!” Tyelko called.

“Three?”

“No, at least--” Tyelko wondered with just how much shameless greed he could get away with, now that he had the upper hand in this bargain. “Ten,” he decided.

“You are bold, I give you that,” Nelyo said. “Four, my final offer.”

Tyelko pulled a slight grimace, his thinking face, eyes turned towards the ceiling, brow bunched in concentration, “T-”

Nelyafinwe would hear none of it and crossed his arms in front of his chest, “If you say ten again I will give you only two again, choose wisely.”

How _was_ bartering supposed to work? Frustrated, Tyelko groaned, “That is so _complicated_! Alright, six then. But big ones.” With that, the arrangement made and no longer his problem, Tyelko skipped away.

“And take a basket with you,” Nelyafinwe called behind a fast retreating Tyelko before he rounded the corner and could pretend to not having heard, “It's chestnut season.”

* * *

There came muffled cheering from outside, Irissë had gotten hold of the dog, no doubt. Tyelko's exuberance joined in only moments later.

Chatter could be heard, though not the words. Their laughter poured through the open windows.

Their happiness was contagious and Nelyo smiled to himself while he packed napkins and forewent the eating utensils; They would, in Tyelko's and Irissë's hands, never get used for their intended purpose.

“Are there raisins?” Carnistir asked from his perch, well away from any hot fat, dutifully grating cheese. No expense would be spared for his subjects, the birds. What delicacies, cheese, cake crumbs, a few currants because someone had eaten the rest beforehand.

“For you or the birds?” asked Nelyo. He wondered exactly what these treats would taste like. With fruit and nuts _and_ cheese... Intriguing, but Nelyo was not eager to find out.

Carnistir blushed, tried to look unaffected and utterly failed, “... _Both_.”

“Let me check.” It helped that he was so tall, he could see the highest shelves without stretching. This was an endless source of jealousy for his brothers and parents, who needed chairs for the highest ones and could thus be found out and foiled easily.

He pulled the cupboard open and peered inside, shuffling some of his father's tea tins around.

Behind him, the door was pushed open and someone strode inside. It was the stride of someone who had no care for idyllic peace and silence. Instead there was only the personal need for nourishment and perhaps entertainment. It was not hard to guess just which of his brothers had arrived.

“You have lessons with Kana,” Nelyafinwe reminded his brother helpfully while he sorted the tins back. Ever so helpfully and not in the least pedantic.

“Kana is sulking,” Curufinwë replied curtly, head inclined as if he was schooling a rather dense child, smiled victoriously and made to pilfer the mountain of cheese Carnistir defended.

There came snarled insults and taunting while Nelyafinwe measured out raisins both for the pot and for Carnistir.

“Still?” Nelyafinwe asked himself and tried to count the meals his brother had taken in solitude, sequestered away in his own room while writing endless threnodies about true love dying.

There had been no more then three which meant Kanafinwe could only remain in there for so long before his sorrow would crumble into itself and he would get the desire to compose something else. Best to leave him be for a little while longer; To digest whatever it was that tormented him so. He would return on his own terms.

Before any scuffling could truly start he separated his brothers, gave Carnistir his raisins and snatched up Curufinwë while ignoring any and all protests.

“Then you will go with Tyelko,” Nelyo decided. “He will...Teach you _something_ , I'm sure.”

“How to eat bugs, probably...” Curufinwë groused bitterly, “That's all he is good for.... And he will have that annoying dummy with him.”

“You should not talk about yourself that way,” said Carnistir from where he sat, still out for blood.

And because Curufinwe gladly rose up to every challenge and ever insult with burning zeal, there was indeed screaming, high and angry and breaking off into hoarseness in between scalding insults that faded as Nelyo carried Curufinwë outside. “No screaming, Curufinwë,” Nelyafinwe said as Curufinwë screeched back into the kitchen at his scornful brother, screeched into Nelyo's ear and screeched in general.

Carnistir watched his brothers go, watched Curufinwë shake his fists at him while he glared over Nelyafinwe's shoulders and poked his tongue out at his younger brother.

“No taunting, Carnistir,” Nelyafinwe admonished and made to carry his currently fulminating brother out of sight so no one would get torn to shreds.

Though Curufinwe was not so small as he had once been, Nelyafinwe was and would forever be far taller. Taller then his own father, though the truth which Fëanáro did not want to hear was that his father was not the tallest to begin with. Nelyafinwe was taller than Arafinwe, had been before he had come of age and taller than Nolofinwe not even a decade later.

It made carrying his brothers and cousins around easier, which at the moment was quite necessary.

If he allowed them to stay in one room now, this would end in tears and scuffed faces. Because, even if Carnistir could cut to the quick without hesitation, to the very deepest part were it hurt and mercilessly _twist_ , Curufinwë would be the one to finish it with much the same savagery.

Both of them could dish out and the problem stemmed from the fact that neither one could take it.

Much like screaming cats, it was best to separate them before the claws could come out all the way.

“Tyelko!” called Nelyafinwe down the hallway, “Take this one too and I will make it five!”

* * *

They gathered in the hall, laden with baskets and wrapped in cloaks.

Nelyo had tied Ambarussas boots and reminded Tyelko to do the same for them once they where outside.

And then, finally, they had been left to their own devices for indeed there was still hot fat on the stove.

But the twins hesitated before the opened door, holding one another's hand. They looked between Tyelkormo and Irissë and then finally Pityo spoke up about what had them so indecisive. “Huan?”

Huan had made for the hills the moment Irissë had let him loose.

“We will have fun without Huan,” Tyelko promised gently and petted their heads, much like their mother did whenever someone was in the beginning stages of a temper tantrum, “I can show you how to make _itching powder_ ,” he whispered nearly reverently.

For itching powder was the very apex of fun and its recipe as reverentially regarded by Irissë and himself like others might have guarded treasures.

Itching powder was a source of endless fun for Tyelko and Irissë and a waking nightmare for all those who would find wardrobe and bed liberally dusted with the stuff.

“But Huan,” Telvo said, lips quivering and eyes wide. Pityo joined the moment he realised his brother's plan. Together they beseeched poor, defenceless Tyelko with wobbly lips and longing looks from bright, wide eyes.

“Huan,” Pityo agreed and between the twins and their stubbornness, there would be no budging until Huan was procured.

The first instinct when faced with little brothers who would not listen was to get Nelyo. Why do it himself when there was someone much more qualified to take care of that for him. Nelyo _knew_ how to get Ambarussa to come along peacefully.

How to disarm their sad little gazes and their tiny begging voices that would sound so _heartbroken._ One could not help but do as they wished in the hope that they would smile again.

“Fine, alright, I will see what I can do...” Tyelko sighed and made to convince his companion to follow them along.

Such was the duty of a responsible older brother.

* * *

“Come now, Huan,” Tyelko called as the little group trundled along “It will be fun.” Irissë carried the picnic basket, Tyelko could not be trusted with food of any kind. “You too, Curufinwë, come on.”

Huan, much like Curufinwë, glowered impotently at Tyelko, but the elf had already turned around again. Indignant, ignored and _peeved_ about that too, they wandered a bit behind, uninterested in conversations. In Curufinwë's case, too busy maintaining his anger.

Tyelko, with a twin on each hand, had also turned to contemplation. Was he supposed to teach his brothers something? Kana and Nelyo both taught their brothers in all manners of subjects and Nelyo never wasted a chance to turn something into a lesson. Anything could be used to instruct and educate which Tyelko found to be a _fantastic_ way to learn something new.

And of course there was Oromë.

Few lessons stuck as well as the ones where Oromë and his hunters had stuffed Tyelko into a bag, carried him out for dozens of miles and left him in the wilderness with only a knife and a field flask to find his way back home.

These excursions were great and it irked Tyelko endlessly that he was not allowed to share such experiences with his brothers. He had not been that much younger than Curufinwë was now.

Books were _not_ fascinating and learning by endlessly reading was dreadful enough to lose Tyelko's interest before the glossary could be skipped over.

Tyelko liked that, for though he himself would be the first to joke about being doltish and easily distracted, he also was a quick learner and between his brothers, his teachers and his master, he was just about challenged enough to not be bored out of his mind.

Almost.

Luckily, there was and forever would be Irissë to put his mind to use.

So now as well, for she turned around from where she lead on. “What are you thinking about?”

“I need to teach them something,” Tyelko answered and nodded towards his little brothers. The twins seemed utterly elated, with the red and yellow leaves all around them catching their eyes again and again, never losing their appeal.

Telvo had managed to grab for a large leaf and held it in his free hand like a little bunting, cooing over the red and orange streaks. What treasures could be found here; Shiny acorns with dapper little hats,

“Like what?” Her eyes glittered, “How to skin a deer? You promised to teach me how,” she reminded him. And she would doubtlessly continue to do so until Tyelko did. She was more than willing to offer compromises, “A bunny would work too, I'm not picky.”

Tyelko considered his little brothers and wondered what would happen if he did that to a cute, fluffy bunny right in front of them. Normally, if it had only been the two of them, he would not have hesitated, for skinning ones prey was simply the next logical step.

But with Ambarussa who would not even eat fish if it still had a head, the idea disquieted Tyelko. He shook his head. “Maybe when they are older. They're not ready yet.”

“But we can soon?” Irissë asked and smiled brightly when Tyelko agreed.

But all of that would come later, for behind them, Curufinwë chimed up, “This is boring.”

“Don't mope,” Tyelko called back, “I will make you a slingshot, too, if you aren't grouchy.”

How unfair, such an offer was impossible to turn away. Curufinwë entertained the idea to continue his glowering and complaining, but found his desire for a new toy far too great.

* * *

They spread their picnic blanket on a patch of moss and Ambarussa watched Irissë arrange their food with wide, impressed eyes. How neat it all looked; How fine and proper.

When Nelyo had promised five pastries, Tyelko had not thought that everyone would get five as well. That was great, of course. It meant he did not have to share. But he could have easily tried to trick the twins out of one each, for they could not yet count well and so would hardly have noticed.

But no, he reminded himself, today he was their teacher, their _instructor_.

Oromë never tricked Tyelko out of his snacks and so it seemed only right to try and do it alike.

So they ate, except for Huan who snorted at them when offered a bite and continued to rest his grey head on his paws.

“Where's my slingshot? I was good,” Curufinwë demanded after a while and glared at his brother, daring him to go back on his word. There would be screaming and a little part of Curufinwë wished for a reason, any reason, to let loose like a wildfire.

But the largest part of him really wanted that slingshot.

And Tyelko knew that slingshots were a serious matter, dutifully assembling one, for who did _not_ always have materials for at least _one_ slingshot at hand? Boring people, that's who.

Irissë meanwhile had stowed the remains of their feast back and made her own, which only proved Tyelko's point.

Curufinwë did not grouse when it was Irissë who offered to teach him and instead the two went off to gather acorns while Tyelko stayed behind, being dependable.

The most dependable of teachers he was, indeed. Or rather, would be. A teacher, that was. He was already the most reliable, of that there could be no doubt. He was, after all, still here with his twin brothers instead of halfway up a tree begging, luring, beseeching him to _climb_ up high and higher.

Huan gave a disdained snort somewhere behind them and went to find a suitable tree.

Now it was just the three of them on their little patch of moss.

Tyelko, who had been busy being trustworthy, now looked at his littlest brothers. They looked at him, perhaps uncertain what to do, now that they were mostly alone in such a big forest.

“Shall we go find chestnuts?” he asked the twins, for that was what a reliable older brother would have asked.

And the twins, though not _entirely_ certain what that entailed, eagerly agreed.

* * *

The chestnuts glowed like pieces of gold in the light of Laurelin and more than once, Telvo or Pityo would linger for a moment to coo over the pretty colours glowing dimly in their hands. So many treasures to find. Some simply strewn across the forest loam, some rolled under leaves like hiding under their blankets, and then some still sleeping in their brown, spiky beds.

The basket they had brought was already full to the absolute brim and they had made room in the picnic basket.

From time to time, there came the sound of an acorn resoundingly thwacking against a tree, Irissë and Curufinwë unconcerned by chestnuts and how pretty they looked.

Ambarussa stayed near one another, like they had been instructed and how they preferred it, with Tyelko close by.

But even so, Pityo, already bolder than his twin, ventured a little further from the basket than Telvo did. It meant that the finding was all Pityo's.

The discovery was a chestnut, Pityo was certain. And what a truly gargantuan one it was. How exciting!

But it was still in its shell and he could not see an opened seam to pry the giant chestnut that surely had to hide in there out. “Tyelko!” Pityo hollered and leaped about, now very much thrilled. What a find! Surely he would be praised for it.

Telvo, though not certain what had gotten his twin so excited but always willing to join in, crowed as well until Tyelko came along.

They took a collective look at the prickly ball nestled half-hidden under red and orange leaves while Pityo looked terribly proud and perhaps a tad spooked.

“That's not a chestnut,” chided Tyelko with an amused grin and poked Pityo's nose playfully when his little brother looked out from behind him. It was fun to be the smart one for a change.

Telvo was not quite so brave and continued to hold onto Tyelko's coat, unwilling to face the giant not-chestnut again. Who knew what strangeness lurked there? Telvo would not be the first to stick his face in there.

“What's it then?” asked Pityo with his fingers protectively clasped over his nose. That left his mouth free and he blew a raspberry.

Tyelko, instead of answering, poked the spiky thing and it quivered, shook and suddenly unrolled.

It poked its snout out, a pink tongue licked over a pointy nose, beady black eyes looked towards the three elves before it turned and waddled away. It sniffled the ground, in search of snails and other morsels, unheeding to its audience.

The twins watched it leave with wide eyes and Pityo gave a disappointed sigh. It really had not been a chestnut. Or they had found it too late.

Pityo remembered the little chicks that had hatched from eggs when they had visited a farm once. They had _hatched_ out of eggs and when Pityo had fretted about the possibility about perhaps eating one of these cheeping, brown fluff balls by accident, he had been promised thrice over, reassured and sworn to that with fresh eggs that would never happen. No accidental inhaling of cute, fluffy chicks. Which was marvelous to hear, for to give up dunking warm bread in soft yolk seemed too great and cruel a loss.

Did it not make sense that they had missed their opportunity and this chestnut had lain around too long until a chestnut chick had hatched.

What a shame.

Stunned silence, for to have a chestnut walk away, that was certainly something they had not seen before. “What's _that_?” Telvo whispered in awe and pointed at the _thing_ to clarify just what he meant.

“A hedgehog,” Tyelko said and puffed out his chest, for he had _taught_ his brothers something new. He _was_ a teacher, the best teacher there ever was.

The hedgehog, pulling a slug from under the leaf-strewn forest ground, chewed with quick, slurping motions and sniffed for more in the same moment.

Chestnut or not, Pityo reasoned, the hedgehog was cute. “Cute,” he whispered and wide eyes regarded this entirely strange, new animal. The little paws that scampered along, with the little spikes all over.

“Cute!” With that it was decided and Ambarussa squealed in sudden newfound delight while the hedgehog nosed aside leaves to find lunch.

“Don't bother him, he wants to eats in peace,” Tyelko said and did not notice that he sounded quite a lot like his mother might have. Or Nelyo. Gentle but resolute, allowing no fuss.

The twins looked back at their brother, then at the very spiky hedgehog crunching at a snail before returning to their chestnuts.

* * *

Curufinwë, once the little group had gathered again, looked endlessly pleased with himself. His slingshot still in hand, unloaded, he hummed to himself, perfectly content.

All of them were, really. Ambarussa both looked quite tired out and now Telvo was carried on Tyelko's back and Pityo on Irissë's.

Tyelko grinned, for he had proven that he was _responsible._ He was surprised himself.

“Shall we go back?” Tyelko asked, the basket hanging over one arm.

Huan yawned and shook himself and then they were off.

* * *

“Why, what do we have here?” Nelyo asked when the victorious hunters had returned and the slingshot had been confiscated, much to Curufinwë's screaming protest.

“Hedgehog eggs,” Telvo crowed proudly. “They're spiky, see?”

Nelyo smiled and stroked their heads, just as red as his own, “That they are,” A little over his shoulder, “Atya would be glad to have someone help him score them later.”

That set Curufinwë, who had moped right up until these fateful words were said, into motion and he shot off, “I will do it!” Because no opportunity to spent time with their father would ever be wasted. Hurrying out the door, the last thing Nelyo saw from him was the edge of his cloak flying behind him.

And away he was, as his brothers looked after him bemused.

* * *

Dragged from his study, now sitting at the table utterly laden with soaked chestnuts, Fëanáro hummed quietly to himself, the sound all members of the House of Fëanáro knew to be the noises of utter concentration.

It had no words, this song which spoke of attention but if they had, they might have told the listener just how bad of an idea it would be to interrupt it.

Nelyafinwe had already sorted the bad ones out, soaked the rest in cold water and drained them, the only thing needed to do was to score along the surface in perfect lines.

There had been so many gathered that he had to do multiple batches, until the entire room smelled of sweet, roasted chestnuts.

On the other end of the table sat Carnistir, his toil had ended and his feathered subjects would be fed another day. Now was the time for leisure and he entertained Ambarussa with a cup turned upside down.

He shifted it about in little circles, the clatter of a wooden bead being shuffled along underneath. Then, in a truly baffling display of skill, he pulled the cup towards himself so the bead fell out and he lifted the cup.

Ambarussa both shrieked in utter bafflement and leaned closer. “It's _gone_!” they cheered as one and what great excitement swept through the room as they bounced about.

Carnistir looked rather proud of himself for that one. The wooden bead was rolled around in his hand all the while his littlest brothers could not quite comprehend the utter _miracle_ that had just taken place.

* * *

Kanafinwë stumbled out of his den around the time when all preparations had conveniently been finished.

With bloodshot, glassy eyes and wrapped in his gloomiest clothes, he seemed ready and all too willing to throw himself into another fit of mourning. Like a dying swan he looked, close to fainting away.

“Kana, love, there you are,” his mother called. “Come and have some tea, you look like you could use it.”

Kana sighed something, sounding terribly wistful. He was at that age. _That_ age. And whatever it was that had set him off like this, no one wished to find out.

There _had_ been another proclamation of true love not too long ago, hadn't it? Who kept count, really? There had been an awful lot of One True Loves circling through here these last few years.

But that did not mean that poor suffering Kana would be left alone in his grief and so there was tea and several siblings to seek comfort from.

He watched Ambarussa who scurried around the room, until Kana snatched one of them up, holding-- he turned his laughing brother around to see which one he had caught-- Telvo to his chest like some manner of beloved stuffed animal and slumped onto the couch with a hopeless huff.

“I found a leaf!” called Telvo in an attempt to lift his brother's mood and procured the shredded remains from his pocket. “See?” So, perhaps it did not look quite so nice it had when Telvo had put it there...But still! The red and yellow splotches were still visible, even if now a tad... tattered. Still pretty.

Though he was still very much caught in the now dying throes of his adolescent anguish, Kanafinwe smiled at his brother's sincere interest. “How pretty,” he said and meant it. Perhaps not for the same reason Telvo did, but Kanafinwe could appreciate the way the tears and missing chunks added to the golden splotches all over the leaf.

Telvo giggled brightly, for he hardly minded the attention and made himself comfortable. A hand petted his red locks and he remained where Kana had plopped him down onto the couch. Perhaps his brother wished for company and Telvo could certainly provide him with that.

Tyelko and Irissë had used their time squatting out in the gardens, concentrated and hunched over, had gutted the gathered rose hips and smeared their insides out onto a rock so they could dry. That was important and could not be hurried along.

The haul had been _fantastic_ this time, there would be a whole bag full of itching powder. A large one, perhaps enough to carry them through until the next harvest.

Nelyo, carrying a bag, stepped outside and watched them work diligently. A shame that they never used this passion for anything regarding their schooling.

“Here,” Nelyo said, smiled and tried to ignore the disemboweled remains of the rose hips for everyone in this kingdom _knew_ what it meant when Tyelko and Irissë got their hands on them.

“Your share of the haul,” he said instead and handed her a bag full with warm chestnuts. “Don't eat them all, there is enough for your entire family in there.”

Irissë smiled innocently but winked at him in the playful manner of a parent who knew better but humoured regardless, “You say that while knowing my brothers and me.”

“I thought it worth to try,” Nelyo smirked back.

Irissë laughed and turned around to hug her very dearest friend. Tyelko so smothered and looking not the least bit bothered by the bone crushing force behind Irissë's enthusiasm, hugged her back. She would return before too long, at the very latest, once the seeds had properly dried. They would unleash their horrors from there then.

She waved with her free hand, the other one holding the bag swung over her shoulder. And then, away she went. She did not skip, for she was now older and proper ladies did not _skip._ But there was an airy bounce in her every step that send the fragrant chestnuts clattering softly in her makeshift bag.

Tyelko and Nelyo waved back, still standing in the gardens.

Curufinwë leaned out the window, pitched forward precariously and only by the grace of his behind still remaining inside did he not fall out into the herb garden below him. “Bye bye, you _dummy_!” he called loudly.

Before anyone could admonish him, and from inside they could hear Nerdanel's aghast exclamation, Irissë tossed her hair back and laughed, “Bye bye, crabby,” she called. Then they poked their tongues out at one another, laughed and Irissë vanished out of the gate.

“What exactly happened in that forest?” Nelyo asked still staring after her and Tyelko could only helplessly shrug.

* * *

When they had stepped inside again, Curufinwe hummed much like his father, though he sounded a lot smugger. “Well,” he said as he wandered over towards the table where Carnistir sat and sorted through a large pile of puzzle pieces. “ _Well_ ,” he said again, louder this time and then nothing, too busy to smugly regard his brother. As if he knew the answer to a great riddle and would not share.

“Is this going somewhere?” asked Carnistir and leaned a little to the side to look at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

Both brothers narrowed their eyes at one another, considering each other like wild beasts might have, sizing up and judging. Searching for something. Weakness? An opening?

The rest of the family watched on, for the extraction that could potentially follow in the next heartbeats would need to be timely and precise.

Whatever wordless communication had passed between them seemed to satisfy both, for Carnistir turned back to his puzzle and did not scream when Curufinwe climbed up next to him onto the same chair and began puzzling.

* * *

Fëanáro had, in a rare moment of quiet introspection, turned silent and watched his family with the eye of an observer who had stepped too close and could never hope to be unbiased again. But he had been partial towards them all from very early on, if he was entirely honest.

He had come a rather long way from his first offspring and his utter ignorance about their potential.

He remembered, dimly, that he had wondered what one could possibly hope to do with a baby not yet able to comprehend speech.

Now he was here, with his wife and their sons all around him, he could admit to himself that he had been a fool. But he had been younger and foolishness was a trait all young shared, was it not? He should know, he had ample proof.

Speaking of proof...

It was Kanafinwë, Telvo sitting on his stomach as they played a game with string spun around Kanafinwë's fingers, who noticed his father standing up first.

“Where are you going, atya?” he asked and blew the forever stubborn strand of hair out of his eyes, he had after all not a single finger free at the moment.

Fëanáro wandered through the room, everyone was scattered around the room and so he had to wander to kiss their foreheads. “To my study. I think I shall write for a bit.”

Nerdanel hummed when he kissed her behind the ears and she turned like an asp and flung her arms around his neck to show him how to do it properly. “I will have someone drag you out of there if you are not back by supper.”

Fëanáro smirked, “Why, thank you, then I need not worry about that.” With a last round of goodbyes, he left for this newest of sparks driving him forwards

* * *

Here, in Fëanáro's ever growing library, there was a book. Well, he would have worried if there had not been. So rather, there were a lot of books.

But _this_ one was rather special. Loose leafed parchment had been stuck between the pages.

Fëanáro pulled it out and gave the empty waiting pages he skipped a cursory glance before pulling out one of the loose pages.

Notes had been written, still in desperate need to be cleaned up and turned into something the average elf might be able to decipher. There were names for the chapters, notes scribbled into the margins where he had checked something and written if down.

Truly, no elf but him could and would ever care to try and decrypt this mess. Not that he would have ever allowed it; No one would ever see these truest of first thoughts and Fëanáro would be damned if anyone got their grubby finger on these.

He already knew the name of the book; Had known it before he had even truly started writing it. Sometimes that was enough to inspire. _The Continued Studies of Fatherhood_.

Yes, what a name. For even though there already was a parental guide out there, Nerdanel and he had perused it more than once, it was _lacking_. Lacked in flair and in mentions about Fëanáro and his accomplishments.

But this one. This would be another beast entirely. It would be perfect, like all things Fëanáro did. Where his sons not prove of that? It seemed only right to write a book just as perfect.

Outside, for the door was only leaned on, he could hear his family and he smiled.

He dipped his quill into the ink, made care not to drip and began to write the first chapter's title.

_Lesson One; Unsupervised Paperballs and the Severity of Sneezes._

He looked at what would be the first of many such cleverly thought out names with the eyes of a self-critical artist and was _very_ pleased with himself.


End file.
